The Fall of the House of Dumbledore
by Cielita
Summary: The famous Edgar Allan Poe horror story goes Harry Potter style! Please R&R!


            Minerva McGonagall sat down at her table and anxiously opened a letter in a familiar hand.  She had not heard from Professor Dumbledore in decades.  She viewed her visit to his mansion home with anticipation.  She noticed, with not a little sadness, his indication that he had been ill.  He wrote that he hoped that seeing her might cheer him back to some semblance of health.  As she traveled to see him, she wondered what had become of him in those missing years.  How had two friends who had been so close so easily fall away from one another?  

            When she arrived, Minerva marveled at the sheer size of the place.  The Dumbledore's were an ancient wizarding family, but she never imagined that there was indeed so much to the family estate.  She was also amazed at the state of the place.  She noted the gardens, long left to disrepair, the fountain in the front that was not functioning, and the ivy that grew wild over the façade of the main house.  

            A single quiet house elf met her at the door and conducted her to the luxurious sitting room.  The dim evening light left the room very dark, and Minerva nearly had to squint to make out the form of Albus Dumbledore.  

            The first thing that she noticed was his physical appearance.  He was paler than she remembered, and he seemed emaciated and exhausted.  The next thing she noticed was that he didn't rise to greet her.  After so long, and after such a passionate request to see her, she very well expected an embrace and perhaps a kiss, but there was nothing.  Albus simply looked up at her and faintly smiled.  Minerva gathered her skirt and sat down near his large wing back chair.  

            She expressed how very glad she was to be there and how much she missed him.  They spent the next several hours talking and catching up on things that had been happening.  Afterwards, another house elf escorted Minerva to her rooms where she would be staying during her visit.  They were nicely furnished and more than adequate to Minerva's simple taste, but a creeping sense of foreboding seemed to make her shudder as she returned later on to enjoy a mug of hot chocolate with him.  

            During the ensuing conversation, he confided in her that his brother, Aberforth, had been very ill.  It seemed that there was nothing that the healers of the wizarding medical community could do, and Aberforth Dumbledore had been reduced to a bedridden man, pale and alternating between quiet consciousness and death-like catatonia.  Once, when the two had gone upstairs to check on Aberforth, his skin was so cold to Minerva's touch that she nearly shrieked in fear.  

            As they traversed down the stairs again, Albus confided in her that Aberforth's deteriorating condition may be part of his own depressed appearance.  Minerva assured him that she was sure that the illness would pass, and Albus nodded, patting her hand that he had tucked into the crook of his arm.  

            Minerva fell into a fitful sleep that night.  She couldn't seem to shake the spooky, uncared for state of the house.  It was as if all of the clocks had stopped and with it, the life of the family within it.  Each time she seemed to think that she had the image of Aberforth, cold and pale, out of her mind she would see him again, and he would immediately sit bolt upright, bright blue eyes bloodshot and wide open, and scream out her name.  Horrified, Minerva would sit up herself, whimpering and shaking, but forced herself to believe that it was just a dream and go back to sleep.  

            When Minerva arrived in the dining room for breakfast the next morning, she was beginning to look a little like her long lost friend.  She had gotten little sleep, and the absence of sunlight in the sprawling mansion was beginning to pale her skin.  That day, she and Albus spent time playing chess, painting together and Minerva listened with rapt attention as Albus played the guitar.  Instead of sounding forlorn, or even sad, the strains seemed almost frightening in his tone and choice of chords. 

            It was that night that Aberforth died.  As was long standing family tradition, Aberforth was to be laid in the family sepulcher in the basement of the mansion.  Albus insisted upon the two of them laying the younger Dumbledore in his tomb themselves and the better part of the afternoon was spent arranging the necessary preparations for burial.  

            The Dumbledore family catacombs were located in what appeared to have held perhaps some delicate compound or explosive in earlier days, for it was lined in copper.  Minerva helped Albus to move the large burial vault to the chamber that evening, as thunder softly punctuated the sky.  

            Minerva said a few words over the sarcophagus as they stood over the open lid of the casket.  She noted how much the brothers had looked alike.  When they had situated it they returned to the great room to sit by the fire.  Albus' mood seemed to have worsened in the past few hours, and Minerva suggested that she might read to him.  His storming blue eyes met hers and he smiled, if weakly, and nodded.  

            Minerva chose a dark blue bound volume.  A story about a knight coming upon an abandoned castle and investigating the contents in search of a treasure that was the stuff of legends.  As Minerva read, she and Albus thought that they faintly heard a pounding.  

            "Surely, it's just the thunder, Albus," said Minerva, taking a breath to continue the story.  The knight had penetrated the gates of the castle and was tiptoeing up and down the maze of corridors and breezeways.  Minerva shifted uncomfortably in her chair, but continued.  

            As she read the subsequent chapter, the knight was searching the east wing of the castle and knocked over a suit of armor, creating a clamoring and clanging noise that echoed across the castle.  The knight in the story very nearly fainted of fear.  At the very moment that Minerva read this, a sound almost identical to the clamoring, obnoxious noise that the author described reached their ears.  Minerva's heart skipped a beat as she jumped, but Albus remained in his chair, looking about for the source of the sound.  He seemed convinced that his dead brother was attempting to come back from the grave.

            "He is coming back to avenge his untimely death!" Albus cried, beginning to shake.  Minerva did her best to calm him and continued the story.  The thunder continued to grow louder outside the tall windows and now lightning flashed soon after each pealing crack of thunder.  The knight in the story had moved along, and now he was hearing a sound much like a heavy object would make as it was dragged along the floor.  

            A tingle ran up and down Minerva's spine.  In the distance, the very same sound, a heavy object being dragged across the floor, emanated from somewhere in their very house!  

            "He comes!" Albus shouted, "Aberforth returns to avenge himself on me!  Listen!  He knocks outside the door!"  Minerva looked around but saw nothing.  Only the now deafening sound of the thunder boomed and shook the house all the way to the foundations.  Minerva begged Albus to explain his wild ramblings.  It was then that Albus revealed something about his brother's burial:

            "It's true!" Albus shouted, "_We have indeed placed him in the tomb alive!_" Minerva turned and looked at the large oaken double doors to the great room.  Just as Albus had said, there were three loud knocks at the door, each one nearly as deafening as the thunder.  When the door swung open, Minerva screamed and Albus froze to his chair.  There in the doorway, framed by the shadows and illuminated occasionally by the flashing lightning, was Aberforth.  There was blood on his hands and robes, his hair and beard were covered in blood and what looked like shavings of the wood coffin they had buried him in. 

            Aberforth staggered though the doorway and across the room, throwing himself at his brother and bore him to the floor a corpse, having died of sheer terror.  Minerva ran from the house, not looking back.  

            As she fled down the stone walkways, she tripped and fell to the ground, scraping her hands and tearing her skirt.  Despite the torrents of rain and the violent wind, Minerva looked back in time to see a blinding flash and a deafening crack as lightning struck the house, causing it to explode and crumble to the ground as Minerva flung her arms over her head and flattened herself on the ground to keep from getting hit with the debris.  When the majority of the chaos had finished, Minerva uneasily stood.  Stumbling, she ran once again, occasionally tripping over ruined furniture, obliterated masonry work, and bits of wood.  She was never to return again.  


End file.
